


On Dhea

by narath



Series: solavellan moments [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:14:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narath/pseuds/narath
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan & Solas
Series: solavellan moments [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1617556
Kudos: 6
Collections: Dragon Age Den fic collection





	On Dhea

Tendrils of sunlight danced across her skin, over the gentle curve of her nose. Silent hums of sleep escaped her parted lips.  
How could he possibly escape the gravity pulling him to her, when not even godly intervention would keep him at bay?  
The mattress gave way as he snaked his way up her back, every movement accentuated by a featherlike kiss to her bared skin.

This is how she felt him, even from the fade; a whispered promise of warmth and light, a soft and gentle caress beckoning her to reality.  
A final kiss was planted on the tip of her ear as he settled in the space between shoulder and neck, breathing in the sweet scent of her.  
Elfroot and hay, though he considered her more heaven than earth.

On dhea, vhenan. His breath on her neck felt like home.

A small whine escaped her as she turned to face him, eyelids fluttering happiness in morse. Let me stay here.

Please, Solas, vhenan, she purred, just 10 more hours.

~

By nightfall she had managed to steal three kisses from him.  
One left paint on her cheek, the other two she demanded in apology as she had wandered into the war room with a streak of green over her cheekbone.  
Three tiny, little kisses. Not nearly enough, she thought.  
He had chuckled at her when she pouted in mock anger and offered to help her drag the heavy couch to the balcony.  
He had insisted that they share a bottle of wine over dinner first.  
After, he asked her:

What is it about the stars you long for?

Freedom, she answered, gesturing for him to help her lift the couch.

She had stopped halfway through the room, dropping the furniture with a thump and climbed over the plush pillows to give him four more, tiny, little kisses.  
And two more. One more.  
For good measure.

She settled between his legs and rested her head against his chest as he handed her his book.

You have to hold it, he had said. If I am to hold you.

She told him colorful stories about the vast beyond, gesturing wildly to the different constellations. Never once did he remind her of the book.  
Freedom, she told him. He almost felt it.  
Silently they drifted, at home within each other. 

We have much to accomplish. Get some rest.

Read for me, just a little, emma lath. She picked up the book and found the page.  
He read, gently stroking her arm when she had to turn the page.

She wished upon the falling stars for the smooth tenor of his voice to carry her into the fade, a lullaby for every night she had left to live.


End file.
